


Your Hollow Bones

by havisham



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dubious Morality, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:18:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9013960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: This one’s gonna steal your tongue
  
  This one’s gonna bruise your heel
  
  You'll pick your teeth up off of the floor
  
  Put 'em back in your mouth like it's no big deal
 Yuri is always chasing after Victor (and one day Victor lets himself be caught.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [derogatory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/derogatory/gifts).



 

 

Yuri Plisetsky had grown up hearing the name Victor Nikiforov on everyone’s lips and idolizing Victor along with the rest. So it was a shocking disappointment, to say the least, when he finally met Victor and found him to be less than heroic. 

Yes, yes, that beautiful face, the phenomenal physique, the refined manner he had on the ice -- they were, if not illusions, then certainly not the whole story. Victor was always kind to the younger skaters, magnanimous with his advice and always willing to take selfies -- but there was always something that he held back, a part of him that was darker, more dangerous and utterly at odds with his charming exterior. 

That was what made him win, Yuri was sure. And if Yuri wanted to win, he would need to crack Victor’s exterior and let his demons out to play. That was the only way Yuri would win. 

*

Victor didn’t take him seriously, which was hardly a surprise. Even with his new growth spurt, Yuri came up to Victor’s chest, if that, and all Yuri’s various attempts at intimidation only made Victor laugh and ruffle his hair. No one else would dare touch him, if they valued their fingers. Victor didn’t seem to know or care. 

*

“You’re going to choreograph my season debut, or have you forgotten?” Yuri said as Victor opened the door to his apartment. Yuri stood awkwardly, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, waiting to be let in.

Victor leaned against the door for a moment, a finger on his chin. “Who are you, again?” 

“WHAT,” Yuri said loudly, his voice echoing down the empty hall. 

But then Victor laughed at his outraged face. “Of course I haven’t forgotten, Yuri. Come inside before you wake my neighbors.” 

Inside, Makkachin nearly knocked him down in his excitement (or maybe he just smelled the cat on Yuri) but subsided when Victor called his name. Yuri had never been to Victor’s apartment before. A part of him was surprised Victor actually had an apartment, with furnishings and a suspiciously luxuriant potted plant in the corner. (He didn't know Victor was nurturing enough to keep a plant alive.)

It had been much easier to suppose that Victor simply bedded down in cold storage every night, only to emerge again in the morning with a beatific smile on his face. 

Victor had wandered over to the kitchen and opened the fridge with a rattle of bottles. “Would you like something to drink? Something to eat? It’s been so long since I’ve had a guest. I don’t think I have anything that would be appropriate for people your age…” 

Yuri went over to him and took a look inside Victor’s fridge. It was like looking at the steppes, with only a jar or two of olives to break the monotony. Yuri’s stomach rumbled. When was the last time he’d eaten? That afternoon after training? That morning?

“I’m hungry,” he said to Victor, who closed the refrigerator door. 

*

Yuri drowsed on couch with Makkachin’s head on his lap (the dog having forgiven him for the sin of owning a cat) when Victor told him that the food had been delivered. He was so hungry that he didn’t really pay attention to what he was eating, except -- “Sushi, really?” 

Victor smiled and shrugged. “Why not?” 

“Still thinking about that obscene weirdo at the Grand Prix banquet last year?” 

“Yuri,” Victor said, his hand resting on his chin. “Why don't we talk about why you're here?” 

“You promised me that that you would choreograph my senior debut if I could win without jumps, and I did.” 

“But Yakov and Lilia, whom you will meet soon, will help you with that. You don't need me.” 

“Why do you always shrink from your obligations?” Yuri snarled, slamming his fist against the table. 

Victor looked bored. “My God, I was never such a brat. Yakov should give you a spanking.” 

“Why make Yakov do it if you're the one who wants to?” Yuri spat out, feeling a flush of heat travel from his neck down his back. Victor was trying to school his face back into its usual, pleasantly neutral expression. He straightened and sighed. 

“I am a responsible adult,” Victor said, a grave expression on his face. Then, he ruined it by saying, “Maybe when you’re older.” 

“I’m ready now,” Yuri said. “You waiting six months or a year wouldn’t make it less wrong, you coward.” 

“I should get you a taxi,” Victor muttered, getting up. He waved away Yuri, who rose too. “You don’t have to clean up.” 

“Victor,” Yuri said, in total frustration. He knew he had to humble himself a little, in order for Victor to listen to him, but it still stung. In a softer voice, he said, “Let me stay.” 

“That would be a mistake,” Victor said. 

(He let Yuri stay.)

*

Even though it had been ten years since Yuri had last slept in a place he might consider his home, he still couldn’t sleep well in a new place. The noise bothered him, the sound of strangers moving around above him and below. Makkachin’s claws clicked on the wooden floors. The sound of Victor breathing beside him. He snored, slightly, which Yuri was surprised by. (Clearly, it was a sign of Victor's impending dotage.) 

A strip of street light escaped through the curtains and illuminated a part of Victor’s shoulders, pale except for the places where Yuri had bit at it a few hours before. Yuri thought he could even make out the teeth marks. 

Victor was awake by this time and watched him as he dressed. “Listen to your elders, Yuri,” he said as Yuri shimmied back into his jeans. “I told you it would be a mistake.” 

Too angry to speak, Yuri reached out and kissed him, a kiss that was more of a bite. He had a handful of Victor’s hair and gripped at it hard. A few silvery strands came away with him. Victor looked at him with a strange half-smile, his eyes bright and blue. 

“There’s something wrong with you,” Yuri muttered. “You didn’t grow up right.” 

Victor yawned in his face. “You’re looking at your future, Yuratchka.” 

“Kill me before it happens,” Yuri said. 

“Fuck me before it does,” Victor said with a lazy smile. Yuri thought he could never hate anyone as much as he hated Victor Nikiforov, or loved anyone as much either. 

*

The next time Yuri came to the practise rink, everything is in uproar, with Yakov shouting more and shouting more loudly than usual. The rumor was that Georgi and Anya had called it quits, but Yuri didn’t know why that would upset anyone besides Georgi himself. 

It was Mila who told him that Victor had left without a word to anyone except Yakov. 

“Where’s he gone? Did Yakov say?” Yuri said, already taking out his phone. He knew the answer before Mila told him -- hadn’t he seen the video of Katsuki Yuuri skating to Victor’s music? Already, his mind was already filled with plans.

Yuri was going to show Victor that he was worthy and he was going to get him back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta. Title and summary by Rival Sons.


End file.
